


Spurs

by nervouspunkboy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Lives, Cowboytober 2020, Drabble, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Chapter 6: Beaver Hollow (Red Dead Redemption 2), Short One Shot, Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervouspunkboy/pseuds/nervouspunkboy
Summary: As he dug around for his clothes, there was a clicking sound. He kept moving things and found what made it. Spurs. Not just any of course, but that pair of spurs Dutch had handed him in Horseshoe in return for a new pipe. He sat back on the floor and just held them in front of him.20 years of his life that he gave to the man and all he had to show for it now was these damn spurs.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87





	Spurs

**Author's Note:**

> Cowboytober 2020 Day Three: Spurs
> 
> Arthur's healing and finds the spurs Dutch gave him in return for a pipe and does some thinking.

Arthur took a slow breath as he stood. It was still a lot for him to move, to be steady on his own two feet. His body felt weak, weaker than it'd ever felt before but he didn’t feel like dying today which was an improvement. With that bit of relief, he’d wanted to go for a ride, clear his head. He missed how it felt, out in the open air with no worry in the world. When was the last time he’d been on the trail and just breathed deep and felt at ease? Even the thought of breathing sent him into a coughing fit. He tucked his face into his elbow and coughed, and coughed, and coughed. It burned and it brought tears to his eyes and he swore as it passed. It’d been too damn long since he’d breathed easy, let alone while on horseback. He’d see if Charles was up for it, promise to take it nice and slow too. As much as he fought it, as much as he wanted to go back to normal, he knew this would take time.

He walked slowly to the small chest they’d been using for their things, needing to put on more than just his union suit. It was a clean one but he hadn’t put on more than that in a few days. No matter how close to death he’d come, Arthur Morgan still didn’t handle bed rest well. 

As he dug around for his clothes, there was a clicking sound. He kept moving things and found what made it. Spurs. Not just any of course, but that pair of spurs Dutch had handed him in Horseshoe in return for a new pipe. He sat back on the floor and just held them in front of him. He’d almost forgotten about these, had put them on the next day and never took them off. He must’ve worn them from then on, just kept them on his boots because why would he change them? It had been such an indifferent gift, something he just had on hand to give to Arthur out of politeness. There was no real thought or heart and Arthur hadn’t really cared, still wasn’t sure he did. He felt like an idiot, dramatic too, for being upset seeing these spurs. But Jesus, all he had done for that man, all he had given him all these years and this is all he had left. That’s all Dutch could be bothered to give him. There was a voice in his head calling him ungrateful. How could he be upset just because Dutch didn’t agonize over the perfect gift, didn’t think about what Arthur could actually want and like to have? No, he just simply picked up something he’d stolen off of some random idiot and he didn’t want. Arthur scoffed and set the spurs down, glaring at them. 

All those years of working so hard to make Dutch happy, to be the best outlaw he could be, to earn love and care and safety. And Dutch considered him an afterthought. What a fool he’d been, to think he truly mattered then. Even in Horseshoe, Dutch wasn’t listening to him. Dutch didn’t care, not really. Even if he had, it felt better to think he hadn’t. Or did it? Arthur felt his lip tremble and he swore, rubbing at his face. Being as physically exhausted as he was really made one’s emotions stronger. He’d cried more the last few months than he had in years.

He looked up, as the door opened and Charles stepped in, small sack in hand and Arthur felt a moment of embarrassment sitting there on his knees, staring sadly at a pair of spurs. 

“Arthur,” he took the sack and set it on the bedside table, “is everything alright?” Charles took off his jacket and kneeled next to Arthur on the floor. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m um,” he sniffled and stared at the spurs again. “Was just going to get dressed.” 

Charles placed a hand on Arthur’s upper back, thumb rubbing softly back and forth.

“And where did you think you were going?” Charles smiled and Arthur laughed.

“Well I missed you terribly and was going to come looking, worried something happened to you.” Arthur grinned, looking over Charles’ face. 

Charles laughed, that beautiful laugh, and Arthur felt some of those horrible feelings untangle. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” Charles sighed. 

Arthur nodded, “yeah I know. I wanted to go out for a little ride. I’m feeling cooped up and I know, I need to rest but.” 

“Are you feeling up to it?” Charles asked, hand drifting up to play with Arthur’s hair at the back of his neck. Arthur nodded again. 

“I ain’t going to push myself I promise, I just wanted some fresh air.” Arthur exhaled and Charles nodded, still playing with his hair. They sat in silence for a moment before it couldn’t be avoided.

“What happened?” Charles gestured to the spurs and Arthur let out a long sigh. 

“Dutch gave me those.” 

It hung in the air and he heard Charle’s quiet  _ oh _ . They hadn’t talked much about anyone else, just John and his family, Sadie and Tilly too because those were the last people Arthur had seen that he’d truly cared for. It had taken him a while to even explain what happened to him that night. And Charles hadn’t pushed, he never pushed unless Arthur was deserving of pushing. Charles himself also didn’t want to talk about Dutch, the way they’d left things and how he’d seen Dutch treat Eagle Flies, encouraged his anger until it led to him dead in his father’s arms, the Wapiti having to flee all because  _ Dutch _ . It always set both of them on edge to think of the man. 

“20 years of my life, I gave that man 20 years and all I got to show for it is these damn spurs.” 

They both laughed, laughed until Arthur coughed and Charles rubbed his back, helped him through it. Arthur sighed and picked the spurs back up and just stared at them. 

“Do you want to keep them?” Charles asked, standing and holding his hand out to help Arthur up. 

Arthur groaned as he stood and leaned into Charles' side, smiled as he felt a kiss to his temple, leaned into the affection. 

“Nah, they ain’t anything special. It uh, s’probably foolish, but I don’t want to carry a piece of him anymore.” 

“Not foolish at all.” Charles said. Arthur nodded, thankful for the reassurance and he pressed a quick, closed mouth kiss to the corner of Charles’ mouth. 

“Enough of that, then, what you bring back in the bag?” Arthur closed the chest, set the spurs on top to deal with later and glanced at the bedside table. 

“Breakfast, if you’d like. Then we can go on that ride. Maybe toss those spurs somewhere we don’t have to worry about them anymore.” 

“I probably got enough on me to buy a new pair anyways.” 

“We’ll make an afternoon of it then.” Charles smiled and Arthur couldn’t help but smile back. Those ugly feelings melting away, spurs that were an afterthought becoming...an afterthought. He would leave them somewhere later, for someone else to find and possibly be happy with the new spurs, certainly happier with them than Arthur ever could be by now. For now, he would sit in bed and share baked goods with Charles for breakfast, conditional love and indifference long forgotten. 


End file.
